Well, I’ll be Dog-Gone

At Blevins Book Club yesterday, tim said if I couldn’t think of anything interesting in my life to write about, I could just make up an interesting life. So here goes.

First and foremost I would like to be dog-free. Not dog-free as in “I never want to see another dog on the planet” but as in “I don’t want to be responsible for a dog in the house”. I adore dogs; I always have. My first dog was a mutt named “Mister” that my family acquired when I was four years old. Unfortunately when I was five we moved to an apartment and Mister moved to another family. When I was six and we were back in a house, Princess the Wonder Dog joined our family. (She wasn’t actually a wonder dog until after her death, when my father’s stories of her exploits became increasingly more epic.)

I talked my family into an Irish Setter in junior high and I’ve had Irish Setters ever since then. I even traveled to California once to get “Tristan” after searching over hill and dale for an Irish Setter locally! My current Irish Setter is 11 and my plan was to not get another dog after she was gone. I have friends in lots of places and I’d like the freedom to be able to visit more often. I’m not joyfully anticipating her demise, just looking forward to a time when the house is quieter and cleaner.

Of course, this plan has taken a detour with the arrival of Young Adult’s puppy last year, so now my “plan” seems more like a fantasy. In my fantasy world, I’d wake up hearing the birds singing out the windows, not the barking of a dog that sees another dog out the window. I’d be able to walk to the bathroom without having to avoid stepping on dog toys. I’d go down the stairs without reminding any four-legged beasts that “I got first” so they don’t barrel into the back of me.

I could let the pizza delivery guy onto the front porch without fear of them jumping all over him. I set out a muffin on the kitchen counter, leave the room and have the muffin still sitting there when I return. I wouldn’t have big muddy paw prints all over the place when it rains.

Since Young Adult (and her dog, Krakatoa 2) will most likely be living at home a few more years while she finishes school, I don’t see my dog-gone fantasy coming to pass any time soon. But I can keep dreaming!

Like this:

Related

Post navigation

92 thoughts on “Well, I’ll be Dog-Gone”

Our little Bernie comes pretty darn close. He is such a gentle little dog with a very expressive personality. He’s the third miniature dachshund we’ve had, but he’s the first that you can give a treat to without fear of losing a finger or two. He takes food from your hand slowly and gently. He’s also doesn’t bark much. If someone rings the doorbell, he sounds the alarm, but quits as soon as I’m on it. He’s the perfect size for a lap dog, which is a good thing as he likes to snuggle as much as possible. He walks nicely on a leash, and is not aggressive with other animals, including our cat, Martha. (One funny exception is the next door neighbor’s yappy miniature chihuahua. Parky doesn’t walk his dog, but simply lets it outside to do its business. Their yard isn’t fenced, and that little dog does his duty – usually in our yard – and barks his fool head off in front of our house for no good reason at all. When I’ve had enough, all I have to do is let Bernie out; he sees it as his job to chase Rozi back home.)

When we first got him, Bernie tried to take off whenever he saw his chance; he’d look for opportunities to escape. He no longer does that, I’m guessing because he feels safe and likes it at our house. He likes to go for rides in the car, and behaves very well in the back seat. He doesn’t shed much, and isn’t petrified of the vacuum cleaner. He’s a keeper.

Tim, you’re incorrigible. But trust me, if Sue was anywhere near as pleasant to be around as Bernie, you missed out on a good deal. We wouldn’t trade him for anything. Perhaps she was the one who moved on to greener pastures?

None. I agree with you, Sherrilee. No more dogs. I would prefer a cat over a dog and no pet at all would be better. I have more than enough things to do and no longer want the extra work of taking care of a pet. Also, I am tired of paying vet bills. It seems to me that medical care for dogs and cats should not cost almost as much or the same as medical care for people. I am ready to live in your made up world where I don’t have a pet, Sherrilee.

A self-cleaning one – or at least one that could be trained to use the (human) toilet and flush, bonus if they don’t poop or freak out at fireworks and thunderstorms…also one that doesn’t scare the bejeezus out of you in their old age with random, sudden ailments (see also: Anna stays home with her geriatric hound who is flopping around the house like a drunken sailor just off the tilt-a-whirl…which, as it turns out, is not signs of a stroke but a sudden, random inner-ear thing that makes dogs ferociously dizzy and will clear itself up).

If I could train the delinquents to use their power for good, they would be pretty perfect.

Alas, I try putting papers I want shredded in spots they find appealling, but the orange tabby can not only zero right in on checks and permission slips, but even managed once to chomp out the routing number on a large amount check in an envelope.

So we are stuck with trying to conceal important papers from them, while not doing that so well that we forget about them.

Talking about shredding paper, husband has the perfect paper shredder: a double yellowheaded Amazon parrot. (No, he doesn’t have two heads, just a lot of yellow on his nape.) Gizmo likes to chew on things and tear them apart. Hans placed a thick phone book on the shelf below Gizmo’s cage, and bit by bit, Gizmo has shredded that thing into tiny shreds. Granted, he makes one heck of a mess in the process, but it’s beats him chewing through electrical cords and eating the furniture, both of which he has attempted to do.

We got Gizmo as a rescue. Best guesstimate was that he was 23 years old at the time. We’ve had him since 1993, so he’s approximately 46 years old. How old do these guys get? Looks like we’ll have to put him in Hans’ will. Any takers? I should probably disclose that Gizmo doesn’t like women.

Parrots can go as long as 75 or even 80 if they’re healthy, so you might have to make a plan. My dad had a parrot named Ahab and it wasn’t a happy match. Parrots are very social and with both my parents out of the house working most of each day, Ahab became a little unbalanced. Luckily my dad had a client whose husband was disabled enough that he couldn’t work so was home all day. He and Ahab were a great match!

A big problem with parrots who only squawk but not talk is that the owners tend to give them away to someone else. Then that person gives it away, then that person gives it away. I’ve known of two yellow-collared MacCaws who’ve been through four or five homes over the decades, and since they often live to 90, owners also die before they do. As a teenager, my daughter was given two parrots, one of whom was an African Grey. If you got within 20′ of him, he screamed so loud that it was deafening.

It got to be too much having this bird screaming at the top of his lungs, so Mary agreed to give it to a local pet store. Years later, I went into this store, and, sure enough, he was still screaming!

Gizmo is a charming fellow and talks. He loves company. He can be noisy, although I’ve never heard him scream. Whenever I’m working on the computer upstairs where his cage is, he’ll sit there and sweet talk me. Mostly gobbledygook, but clearly meant as some sort of interaction with me. If the phone rings, Gizmo will wait for me to answer, at which point he’ll say “well, hello there.” Have no idea where he learned that. If I laugh, he laughs, and if I’m talking, he’ll chatter along. He says “What’s the matter” – pause – “huh?” His timing is impeccable. When I leave the upstairs he says “bye bye.” All of his utterances are perfectly timed and appropriate for the occasion.

We made the mistake of teaching him to say “I love you.” Now whenever I try to teach him something new he simply says “I love you,” and the lesson in over; it’s hard to resist him when he screws up the charm.

I’m in the not-wanting-the-responsibility-anymore camp. I have actually considered getting a little kid’s pet – hamsters, gerbils or guinea pigs. But my experience is that you don’t get much affection from the little guys.

The animal with the shortest life span is a mouse. And, they’re so damn cute! Of course, you can’t cuddle them in bed at night, but they can be trained to come when called and sit on your hand. My daughter had half a dozen “satin mice” growing up.

For a short period of time I worked at W. T. Grant’s in Riverhead, Long Island. One day a week I was in charge of the pet department. That meant scooping all the dead fish out of the aquariums in the morning, and catching all the birds that had somehow escaped their cages overnight, and, of course, feeding all of the various critters.

A couple of lasting impressions from that stint remain. We had baby crocodiles, only about three or four inches long, but those feisty little buggers would hiss and lunge at me when I fed them. No thanks! Not good pet material in my book.

The other memorable pets were gerbils. One day there was quite a crowd gathered around one of the gerbil cages. When I went to investigate, I found that the attraction was a gerbil cannibalizing her young. I couldn’t eat for a couple of days after that experience. I’ve certainly never considered getting a gerbil as a pet after that.

I have, however, had a pet chinchilla. At the time I adopted her I was working at a research lab at SIU. A local woman had bought a bunch of chinchillas with the intent of raising them for their fur. When they arrived, she found them to be too damn cute, and couldn’t bring herself to raise them to be slaughtered for their fur. She called my boss and asked if he could use them in his cancer research. He couldn’t, as he didn’t know anything about their background and genes. He could, however, help her find homes for them. I think every research assistant, graduate student and student worker associated with the lab, plus a lot of their friends, suddenly found themselves the happy owners of pet chinchillas.

I got one, named him Juan. Then one morning I found two baby chinchillas in the bottom of the cage, at which point Juan became Juanita. Both babies died in short order, possibly because it was too hot; we had no air conditioning. I never realized Juanita was pregnant, and the arrival of the babies was total surprise.

Juanita Chinchilla moved with me when I graduated, and she lived with me five years in Minnesota. She was a fine companion who thought of raisins as a fine treat.

Our neighbors used to have a pet chinchilla… all we had to do when ‘housesitting’ him was give offer a little vanilla treat. He’d come out just enough to grab it and we never saw him again until the next day and the next treat.

When I think back on my life (which I do . . . to a fault) I divide it up into periods according to my dog of that time. In my youth I gloried in the love and companionship of Danny, a golden retriever. Then came the dog I’ll never get over: Brandy, the springer who became famous through my writing about her. The Brandy years ended when Spook entered my life, Spook who was the most courtly and ethical dog I’ve ever known. Katie was my divorce dog, and she excelled in that complex role.

For the virtually first time ever, I have no dog in my life. And, god, I miss them! There is no question a dog would improve my life. But I am too limited to be a dog owner now. Since I should not own a dog again it is good that the ghost dogs in my head are such wonderful companions.

I fear I’m posting too late for you to see this. Your post reflects the thinking of many people, especially cat people. Just saying.

I myself didn’t think dogs had ethics or a sense of shame. And most of the dogs in my life have been . . . dawgs. They are happy go lucky, somewhat rude, often dirty, companion animals. Dawgs.

Spook was different. In his whole life he did not do a single thing he knew to be wrong. I’ve never met a human whose ethics matched his. He was also polite and respectful. Keep in mind that I lived with him, enjoying more contact and chances to observe him than you have with your cats. I learned that Spook would never eat anything, no matter how juicy or tasty, unless I made it clear to him that I gave permission for him to eat it. We could put steaks and hamburgers at his level and never worry he would sample them.

Spook had pride. Once, when a new (and rude) puppy violated Spook’s personal space, Spook gave the pup a little nip to remind him to mind his manners. My erstwife punished Spook for that bite (which was really proper behavior for an older dog) by draping a towel over Spook’s head. She was laughing at “Spook the A-rab” until she noticed that Spook was not moving at all. When she took the towel off, Spook looked at her with an expression of humiliation and sorrow. She regretted having shamed him.

One more quick story. Our family was sitting in the den when Spook walked by. My daughter said, “Look at Spook! He looks like he has seen a ghost!” Spook walked with his head low, his tail down and his ears cocked in a way that looked crestfallen. We looked in the kitchen. My wife’s dog (by that time deaf) had her face in the garbage, eating chicken scraps. Spook’s sense of right and wrong was so powerful he was shattered by the sight of another dog breaking the rules.

Thanks for that post, Steve. Spook sounds like SUCH a wonderful dog. I also found myself reacting to the comment about dogs and ethics by thinking, “I’m not sure I’ve known of an UNethical dog” (in the sense that they follow their own rules about being a dog).

I agree with Lisa and think dogs are highly ethical, but then I also think cats abide by a strict moral code. (Our Purrfessor Kitten would never think to squabble over food with the much smaller Princess Beatrice. If she shoves her snout in his biel, he will back off and watch her eat).

It’s probably a good thing you wrote this, VS. I was starting to imagine getting a dog (if it could be like PJ’s Bernie) once we settle in Winona – I see that it might be what it takes to get me to walk every day. My s-I-l has a cockapoo that we invite to our family gatherings, she’s such a sweetie. Small enough to curl up in your lap, intelligent…

Probably a cat is more my speed, though, a short-hair that likes to cuddle and is a good mouser. We’re moving into an old house.

One of the secretaries at the British Embassy in Moscow owned the biggest and fattest cat I’ve ever seen, but he had been trained to both use the toilet and flush it. Had never seen that before, and haven’t since either.

Our puppy, Humphrey, (90 lbs at 1 year and a couple months) is really turning into a nice dog.
A couple weekends ago, our son was down. We did some target practice, and Humphrey was unfazed by the gunshots. And then, completely unrelated, a neighbors abandoned barn burned down (no injuries, no real property damage… honestly, if the fire could have spread and taken out another old building and one other barn it would have been better…) So there are fire trucks and fire men and Humphrey just took it all in. He was calm and gracious and the firemen liked him and it was so cool to see him just take it all in.
I’m trying to get him to follow me to the fields with me, but he knows to stay home and that’s good too.
(Course at night, if he’s loose with one of the other dogs, he seems to think it is OK to wander. Hrm… )

And I’ve had some nice cats too. Not sure how cats would work with the series of baby ducks and chickens I have around here these days…

We do have guineas; 19 of them. I have heard that too. I have no way to prove it… my dogs will still come home with the occasional tick on them, but they roam farther than the guineas roam.
We like the guineas; the way they run they remind us of Marvin the Martian from Bugs Bunny.
And they are really good watch animals; if there’s something out of the ordinary, they really screech and squawk.

And here are real guineas

(I’m finding lots and LOTS of guinea videos online… just google it up if you’re interested…)

Another Humphrey note: Yesterday I’m using an impact wrench to change the tire on a piece of machinery. (You know the impact wrench is that loud thing they use to change your tires.) First bolt is out and there’s Humphrey with his nose right in there to see what I’m doing. He’s not afraid of noises anyway.
But he will not go downstairs in our house. I’ve tried to bribe him with his favorite ball on the first step, but nope; he will have no part of that; he will not even go 6″ in to get the ball.
He’ll go upstairs and back down, but no way is he going downstairs.

I think sometimes Allie comes down with me just to show up Humphrey.
She’s 26 lbs to his 90 and he’s all over her so often. Here’s a case where she can stay ‘Watch me go downstairs you big doofus…’

I saw a video yesterday of 900 ducks (goose-sized) stampeding into a wine vineyard. They keep the dirt area of the vineyard clean all day, then stampede back to their enclosure for the night. Amazing to see!!

I could never own a dog. Their eyes are too human; they’re endlessly needy; they’d make me feel guilty all of the time if I wasn’t paying attention 24/7. And then, losing one would break my heart. I’ve been owned by 17 cats over 25 years and have adapted to losing them. I’ve developed a system for letting go and burying them in my pet cemetery. A dog would be far too big to bury like that.

As someone above noted, cats are self-cleaning and non-demanding. They come to me when THEY feel like it. I have a 13-year old right now who’s never separate from my body. He’s either on my lap or scrunched up against my leg at all times. He follows me everywhere, even to the bathroom, but he doesn’t need petting. He’s purrfectly happy just keeping snuggled up against me.

Then, there’s the freedom! I can leave town for a week and all I have to do is leave a mountain of dry cat food and the toilet lid up. After my cancer surgery, I was in the hospital for three months. A nearby friend came here once a week to clean the litter tray and leave more food out.
When I finally came home, it’s as though I’d never been gone.

Being “needy” is something that varies greatly in dogs. Different breeds feature different levels of this, plus most dogs become more independent as they age. This drive for affection is something that some careful breeders avoid or emphasize as they try to produce the ideal sort of dog.

Spook was interesting in this regard. He loved people. When we had visitors he would politely greet each one and hang around for a while. Then he would remove himself to a distant room where he would lie down until all guests had gone back home. Like a lot of humans I know, he was happy to see a guest but a little happier when they left and his world was normal again.

I have never been able to discuss politics with my dogs. On the surface most dogs seem like liberals. But when you get to know a dog well, you usually learn that they are stick-in-the-mud conservatives at heart who really want one day to be like another.

For me, the best pets are those owned by my sister. I enjoy being “aunt” to them – getting the snuggles from the cats without the vet bills, litter box cleaning, food expense – though occasionally cleaning up the vomit. I grew up with dogs but don’t want to own one. With my volunteering and traveling, it would be unfair to own a pet of any kind since I am not home a whole lot.
OT – the trip to Brazil was fantastic. All of our destinations were very different (waterfalls first, then Rio, then wetlands area, then another city, followed by Amazonia). There were only 6 in the group and we all got along very well (of course, 4 of us were already friends). But it is not a trip for those who loathe hot, humid weather. Temps ranged from the low 100s in the wetlands to the upper 70s/low 80s in the Amazon but everywhere the humidity was high – sort of like living in a sauna for two weeks. Despite this, we all agreed that this is the most memorable trip we have ever been on (and all of us are extensively well traveled). Good to be home again. It’s the little things one misses such as being able to drop used toilet paper into the bowl instead of tossing it into a covered wastebasket next to the toilet.

I’m pretty much a cat person, but the past couple nights, Cat has annoyed me by deciding to sleep with me after a couple of months of not sleeping with me. I’m all for a cat that sleeps near my feet on a cold night, which is what he used to do, but the past two nights, he has curled up by my upper back or chest, sending out enough heat to keep 10 people warm. Sheesh.

Like Linda, I would be happy if the cat never threw up again. I hate being surprised by finding his throwup in odd places.

I have a 13-year old cat who was diagnosed with mouth cancer three months ago. It turned out to be a nasty infection on his gum. Before the $400 lab test results came back two weeks later, I held him almost 24/7, weeping at how much I’d miss him sleeping on my breasts with his head snuggled into my neck. Now that I know he’s not dying, I just ignore him (kidding).

I love dogs and know that our current terrier who is 14 is nearing the last years of her life. I will get another dog after she dies, but not until husband gets the Norwegian Forest cat or Maine coon kitten he wants. (yes I know we should get a rescue cat). I want to have an adult cat who can teach a pup some manners. The breeder of our current terrier makes sure she always has her pups “trained” to respect cats by a rather assertive mama cat she has. Terriers are notoriously hard on cats.

I want a cat that sleeps next to me, not on me, and who doesn’t wake me up at 4:30 am because she thinks it is time for breakfast.

I am sad to report that our beloved dog groomer has retired. She was an ace who knew the differences between the various types of Terrier beards and made our old girl look really handsome. Our dog looks like a wookie now, and goes to a new groomer on Friday.

when my barber died suddenly years ago (poor old gene went home with a headache found a brain tumor and was dead in 2 months) i tried new barbers and got real upset that they couldnt cut my beard the way i liked. i finally decided to cut it myself , it took about 5 or 6 tries before i got the hang of it, then my new barber made the istake of telling me she could cut my hair with a # 2 blade. i asked her what that was and she said it was the plastic clip on blade guard they put in the hairtrimmer set. now i cut my hair and my beard. my hairdresser misses me greatly im sure but 3 minutes every couple of weeks is good for me.
ill bet you could learn beard sculpting on a terrier. if not you could practice up for you husbands cats

My mom cut my dad’s hair for years. Years and Years. And then in her mid 80’s she got tired of it and said she didn’t want to cut his hair anymore. (He didn’t have much so it wasn’t a big deal but she just didn’t want to do it anymore).
So she hid the clippers and told him she couldn’t find them so she couldn’t cut his hair.
He found the clippers for her.
Next she threw them out. And we gave him gift certificates to get his hair cut right there at the ‘salon’ in their senior place. Mom was happier even if he wasn’t.

Kelly cuts my hair. It doesn’t take long either. The #1 or #2 guide, zip zip and it’s pretty much done. I can even do it myself.
And Kelly and I joke; when she doesn’t want to do it anymore I promise not to make her.

When I first met Hans, he had a full head of hair; some would have called it a wild, unruly mane. His first excursion into an American “men’s salon” wasn’t a happy experience. The stylist took one look at his hair and exclaimed with some little disguised contempt: “We can’t do that!”

With that I became his hair cutter, partly I’m sure, because it was free. That worked for about 25 years. Then for one reason or another, not sure why, he suddenly decided to go to a local barber shop. The barber took one look at his head and asked: “What about this?” pointing to the rather sparse distribution of hair on top. “Just cut it like the rest,” Hans replied. “Why?” said the barber, “you’re not fooling anyone.” That’s when he went out and bought an electric razor with various attachments so he could cut whatever remained of that once wild mane.

I used to be like Hans… lots of thick wavy hair and it was always ‘Thin it more than cut it’.

In the ’90’s I found this old time barber; rotating barber pole and single chair and everything. And he had to hold his one arm up with the other sometimes. But he did OK and was a nice guy and I asked for a ‘flat top’ haircut and he told me I didn’t really have enough hair to do that… he sort of faked it and I liked it… but yeah… I wasn’t going to look like Frank Sutton (Sgt Carter on Gomer Pyle).

im a dog guy
my basset was a bit much but the old lab basset in my hippy days was great and the others have been great. current dogs are wonderful. zeke the wolf dog was great.
my cats are always wonderful but i am able to do my thing and not be aware the cats are on the planet. they are warm when they are and invisible when they are not. my dogs are my dogs and we connect in a different way.
dogs tune in. its cool.
brought in a snake for my wife saturday who i found sunning on the east side of the sunny saturday mornng side of the house. (i wont tell her i think they live there) she didnt nominate that one for the pert of choice. he got to go back outside.
fish are cool
coi in particular are like pups,
ive heard ferrots are fun

isnt it interesting how the second day of the post the participation goes down 80%. i think maybe we need to have bir pose a new question for tomorrow at the end of yesterday although i have noted that linda pj and i are the three late folks most of the time. ben is often a night owl but if he stops in he is quiet.
im not smart enough to figure out if there is a new blog or not so i would be dreaming up new questions for blogs that were being put out to pasture tomorrow.

today’s question could be instead of the perfect pet what are the options for the pet challenged?

my mom is in a old folks co op and my sister who is 55 ish has put down a chunk of money to reserve a house there in 5 or 10 years because she like the set up but… she isnt ready to go because the pet rule is a firm no pets allowed.
what doorknob doesnt know that pets are a good therapy vehicle as well as a soulmate for the folks who live there
steve could do tortises.
i saw a deal the other day on a guy who had tortses for 40 years and they keep right on cooking. w inherited a couple a few years ago and my wife looked after them in a big tupperware storage box with a coral during the day to let them run(expression only) they were ok but i didnt bond. she gave them to a childcare center and they are the pets of the class and much more loved interacted with and happy than in out slow life but i am tring to think of who the tortise person i read about was and how interesting it was that they bonded.
snails as the book suggested are a possibility too. little reptiles are cool and and i love canaries. but how avbout plants like succulents or african violets or fish like the coi or other easy maintance critters.

in my moms case like sherrilee she wants to be able to travel so even plants are out of the question.
‘she is fine with no additional stuff to remember . eye drops , pills and doctors appts are enough.

I used to have a nice collection of silk plants, which don’t need nearly as much maintenance – but even these have become kitty fodder. Just one great big silk “bush” survives. As long as Nimue is alive, no plants inside for me. Sigh.

Oh boy, great idea, and I already HAVE a bunch of rocks. Agates and things I picked up by the superior lake. But I’m afraid if I took them out of their safe place, that two little boys would use them for ammunition.